


Stronger than Steel

by ShoeJacket



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Crack Relationships, F/F, I really love Lucina and Fjorm, Light Angst, Lots of cuddles, Lucina's taste in clothing strikes again, Multi, Other, y'all want some multiverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 23:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19964662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShoeJacket/pseuds/ShoeJacket
Summary: Holding Fjorm’s hand is like cradling a snowflake in her palm, and at once, Fjorm is the most wonderful woman Lucina has ever met. I was going to make a Lucina: Future Wife joke but I couldn’t find the opportunity to. Ah well. Here’s a crack ship one-shot between Lucina and Fjorm if you’re into that kind of thing. [Major, MAJOR spoilers for both Awakening and Book II of Heroes]





	Stronger than Steel

Fjorm was right to warn that her hands are cold to the touch. Lucina feels her fingertips chill at the surface as she takes hold of Fjorm’s hand for a handshake, but she is surprised at the gentleness of the cold. Fjorm’s cold is soft; it’s delicate; it’s polite enough to wait at the door and refuse hospitality even after she offered it tea and biscuits. Holding Fjorm’s hand is like cradling a snowflake in her palm, and at once, Fjorm is the most interesting woman Lucina has ever met. Kiran, still in a daze after summoning a five-star hero as cool and famous and awesome as Lucina (even so far as to get her autograph in their notebook), tells her that she and Fjorm will be teaming up for the time being. Lucina doesn’t mind at all, not one bit.

* * *

##  **C**

“You deserved better from me than one sword and a world of troubles.” Lucina remembers her father’s words as she slides Falchion back into its scabbard. She doesn’t think it’s about deserving as much as she thinks she just has the most terrible of luck. But, all things considered, she supposes it’s not that bad. She watches Lyn looking down from atop her horse having another argument about something-or-other with Charlotte in a bridal gown and cake goop dripping down her spoon-lance. Kiran interrupts them to get an opinion or two about a tactic they’ve come up with. She around looks at the Askrian men and women in uniform flanking around her, talking among themselves, occasionally dropping a pleasant phrase or a silly one-liner. And she looks toward Fjorm, planting her lance into the ground to catch a break and discuss something with Anna and the royal siblings. Lucina lets herself smile. Good people seem to accompany all the bad luck she has ever had, and good people tend to be the same no matter universe she finds herself in.

She vaguely senses a person sitting next to her and doesn’t do anything, but when she feels a head letting itself onto her shoulder, the young lord flinches.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Fjorm exclaims and straightens herself up. Lucina curses the reflexes she’s built over the years. “I usually lean on my older brother, Hrid. Force of habit. I won’t do it next time.”

“It’s alright. Having an older brother must be nice.”

“It is!” Fjorm answers with a wide smile. “Do you have any siblings?”

“No, not at all,” Lucina says, but quickly adds, “well, back in my world—which is to say the world I traveled back in time to, and—well, in that world, the tactician of my father’s army had a daughter, Morgan, and we were closely acquainted. I don’t know, I always felt like she could have been something like a brother of mine—but she’s a girl, I know!—and I don’t really know why I have that feeling…”

“Ah!” Fjorm squeaks. “No! Yeah, no. That happens a lot to me too. When you feel that there is a thing that is definitely real, and there’s an alternate world where that thing is definitely real, and if only Kiran’s sacred weapon can work backwards so that you can go to that alternate world to prove to yourself that you’re not going crazy.”

“That’s… that’s precisely it,” Lucina says, almost breathless. “Do you have those thoughts often, too?”

“All the time,” Fjorm replies. “Like, surely in one alternate world, Kiran’s gender is definitely known and their face is visible and everything! And in another alternate world where I fly on a horse wielding a healing staff! Oh, oh! And I always had this feeling that there is an alternate world where instead of Lyn, Kiran instead summoned you, but with a lance!”

“It was probably for the better that they summoned Lyndis,” Lucina says, recalling the archer’s frankly unfair fighting ability. “Though, back in my world, I was actually training with lances, although I must admit I never got as good as I am with a sword.”

At this Fjorm spoke up. “Oh, you must teach me what you know, please!”

“Of course.”

Over the course of dozens more conversations following this one, **the allies share a mutual respect.**

* * *

##  **B**

Kiran is making the rounds in the castle when they make small talk with Lucina. The swordswoman might never know how these tactician types never seem to get tired despite having so much to do in so little time, but that’s probably one secret that makes them the best for the job. They talk easy, this Kiran, in a way similar to her world’s pint-sized, pink-haired Robin but with less form and more heart, and with a voice she could only describe as the sweet spot between her father’s assured charisma and Tiki’s smooth lisp. They apologize for being the one-person entourage that they were when they first met, explaining that where they come from, they knew a female Robin who spoke nothing but praise for Lucina and that when they found themselves in Askr with a weapon to summon heroes from other universes and time, they had dreamed of summoning the most powerful exalt in all of Ylisse.

Upon hearing about this otherworldly female Robin, Lucina was flustered at the idea that anyone would speak so highly of her, especially4 one as intelligent as a Robin, but on the other hand, she recalls that whenever she would ask her world’s Robin if he knew where Morgan was, his cheeks would glow the shade of his hair as he told her that she was either out training, bashing her head on a hard surface, or learning the stock market from her mother. In other words, being worryingly attached to their children is probably just a Robin thing.

Kiran asks her if she’s doing fine, what she thinks of the war, if she’s getting along well with her squadmates---oh, Lyn and Charlotte are getting along just fine now!---if she would like anything to drink---water, perhaps? A glass of milk?---and after, bids her good night and continues their patrol. Lucina goes looking for Fjorm.

Following the rather loud grunts and shouts of the princess isn’t hard to do, and at the castle wall, Fjorm notices Lucina’s form and positively beams. Lucina can’t help but grin too. Up until now, Lucina thought that nothing could look better under a moonlit sky than the vast blankets of snow in Regna Ferox, but the princess of ice is glowing a warm tone to the backdrop of stars and a canvas of black that far outshines any pretty northern scenery. Fjorm stands in place, her signature lance at her side and her grin on her face, and at once, she is the most precious thing that Lucina would give her life for, and the strongest, most interesting woman Lucina has ever met.

“Hi, Lucina,” Fjorm says.

“Hi,” Lucina greets back. “Ah, training. Yes?”

“Yes, training. Yes,” Fjorm says. “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, quite,” Lucina says.

“I can’t wait to learn what you have to offer.”

“I am more than happy to help,” Lucina replies, then reaches for a lance that isn’t there. “Oh, by the gods… hold on, I’ll have to get one from---”

“Wait, no!” Fjorm exclaims. “It’s alright. I was thinking about it, and I think it would be more productive if we practiced with the weapons we know the best. After all, we’ll be fighting the most with them.”

“Alright then,” Lucina says, and she brandishes Falchion. Lucina sets herself up beside Fjorm, and on the mark, starts swinging her sword in the precise way her father taught her like she has been doing her whole life, claiming victory to countless battles and helping to defeat the fell dragon himself. This time however, the only thing she accomplishes is hitting Fjorm’s lance with the sharpest edge of her sword. Lucina feels her feet go stone cold with icy guilt and she cradles the lance (it too is chilly but only just so) to see what the damage is. A worrying crack down the thinnest and most vulnerable place on the shaft. Lucina starts shuffling through apologies, fixes, and ways to atone for her grave sin, but Fjorm says that it’s okay.

“No it’s not!” Lucina bursts. “I… I’m so sorry I…”

“I can always ask Alphonse or Sharena or anyone else if they have a fix for this,” Fjorm says with a gentle grin. “Leiptr is merely a tool, after all.”

“It’s _your_ tool,” Lucina injects. “If Falchion ever got damaged this badly, I would--I would… Fjorm, how do I make this up to you?”

“There are countless silver lances in the armoury, I can always g--”

“Please, how do I make this up to you?”

“Look, I really don’t need the distant counter; your reciprocal aid is more than enough and Lyn does a wonderful job with--”

“Fjorm, please.”

Fjorm answers, “promise me you will keep doing your utmost.”

“What,” Lucina says. “What? No, no, please, Fjorm, something, anything---”

“Promise me,” Fjorm insists.

Lucina is vaguely aware that Fjorm is holding both of her hands in her own, and she feels the cold caress her fingers in such a comfortable blanket of snow that she didn’t want to promise anything in hopes they can stay like this for a long, long time.

“I promise,” Lucina answers finally, and Fjorm nods.

“Thank you.”

Fjorm disappears for a few minutes and comes back with a silver lance---a lance that pales in comparison to her Leiptr---and suggests that they take it slow. Throughout the course of the night, **the allies share training techniques.**

* * *

##  **A**

Pleasant moments present themselves rarely now that the war against Surtr is reaching its zenith. Tonight, the convoy leading the offensive stops to sleep in a concealed area in the mountains, and many are eager to take advantage of the quiet this has afforded them. Lucina takes a seat on a rock overlooking the convoy in a place she knows no one will find her. She has gotten good at disappearing. Her situation used to demand it. Now that it doesn’t, she finds that she has started making excuses to disappear.

When she became able to transcend timelines and universes, what accompanied her was the acute sense that she had become, in more ways than one, homeless. When she went back in time, she knew her father wasn’t really her father, and that her mother wasn’t really her mother, and that the Shepherds weren’t really the Shepherds, at least not entirely. She tried not to think about them this way, and amidst the chaos, she had succeeded in convincing herself that everyone was the people she knew, but after the conflict was over, the downtime spent contemplating her place in this new Ylisse led her to the conclusion that she didn’t belong. Perhaps that’s why she disappeared once more; at that point her role in the story was over and she was nothing but adrift.

Now, here in a new land where heroes are summoned from their own places and time, she feels oddly at home in her homelessness, and she feels more comfortable letting herself believe she truly exists in this time and place. She is surprised how much has changed over the time she's been here. In the name of better battle efficiency, the squads have been shuffled around. A sweet mage named Genny bearing an uncharacteristically monstrous attack replaced Charlotte, and later on, none other than Olivia herself took Genny’s place.

The Robin of Lucina’s world didn’t field Olivia all that much, and between all the fighting she never got a chance to talk to the dancer. When Kiran told her that they were going to do another switch, she wondered if the Olivia here and now in Askr came from her world, but when Olivia saw her and dashed up to her with a smile, a cheery greeting and no sense of personal space, Lucina was rudely enlightened to the fact that she was indeed from a different world. Fjorm was greatly amused.

Fjorm. Lucina hasn’t seen her since they arrived at the campsite, and she worries. The second princess of Nifl has yet to complain about, well, _anything_ really, and while it is completely within reason that Fjorm has the patience of a saintly cleric, she can’t help but feel like something is wrong. Lucina has plenty of experience with vast armies, divine flames, and big bad muscly guys with delusions of impunity, so facing yet another one of those is admittedly monotonous. This is Fjorm’s first time, though. Lucina still remembers the war against Plegia and Valm, and she understands that it’s impossible for Fjorm to not feel, not for a person as good as Fjorm, not when Fjorm’s beloved country is being burned to a crisp. She peers at Lyn, Olivia, and Kiran sitting and talking together around a campfire, and she is reminded that trying to forget the turmoil and talking about literally anything else is sometimes the only thing they can do. Disappearing from other people takes it toll on her.

“Lucina?”

“FJORM!” Lucina exclaims as her legs almost kick her boots off her feet. “Hi! Wow, fancy running into you here, huh?”

“Actually, I… I came looking for you.”

“Right,” Lucina says, “because this isn’t a place that you just run into…” She takes a breath. “How did you find me?”

“I followed a hunch,” Fjorm says. “You always go somewhere by yourself. You’re a very slippery person to catch.”

Lucina shrugs. “I do what I must.”

Fjorm nods in understanding, and Lucina sees that her eyes are red and stuffy. Lucina feels her stomach tie itself into a knot, and she couldn’t stop thinking to herself that the inevitable has already begun. Or perhaps it has begun a long time ago but only surfaced now. It doesn’t matter. Fjorm has been hurting, and Lucina doesn’t like seeing her friend hurt. Before, she can say anything, however, Fjorm says, “maybe, just tonight, being alone is something you don’t have to do?”

Lucina grins. “Alright.”

Fjorm takes a seat beside Lucina and leans her head on Lucina’s shoulder; Lucina doesn’t flinch. She instead takes Fjorm’s hand in hers, and Fjorm grasps tight. Lucina doesn’t want to let go. This person whose hand is within hers has endured so much. If anyone was to keep her company, she is glad Fjorm chose her. Fjorm blinks away icy tears and sniffs her nose. 

“I’m going to kill Surtr and bring peace back to Nifl.”

“Absolutely.”

“I will not fail.”

“No you won’t.”

“I will not fail.”

"No. You won’t.”

"There is so much on the line."

"Yes, there is."

“Oh gods, please don’t let go.” Lucina doesn’t let go. “Can we talk for a bit?” Lucina nods.

In defiance against the wounded reality they find themselves in, **the allies share their hopes and dreams** for the future, for themselves, for those they love.Anything to take their minds away from it all.

* * *

##  **S**

Surtr’s war is over, and with its end comes the time to heal. Just like Lucina, Fjorm has lost a sister, much of her people, and her sense of home. After vowing to stick with the Order of Heroes (with a serious cough to boot) Lucina thought for a fleeting second that she may have lost her mind, but after giving it some thought, maybe the change of pace and scenery was a good idea after all. Nifl will always be there. Since then, Nifl has continued to rebuild steadily and Fjorm’s cough seems to have subsided substantially. As everything else, things in Askr have changed, and this time, she thinks, for the better. 

They will continue to change.

Lucina vows on her sacred blade Falchion that she will try her utmost not to drop the Feh doll she has hidden behind her back. Fjorm has been skating around in her mind for the past many months, and she feels like she has to do something to show, at the very least, her appreciation for her. Yes, it’s just an appreciation gift. The flush in her cheeks is unrelated; the way she loses herself in conversation with the ice princess is merely just a friend thing, surely. Theirs is a strictly professional relationship and the gift is strictly a professional courtesy. As she nears the corner, she nods to herself. She is definitely not in love. She is definitely not making startling comparisons right now between her feelings and the way her mother tripped over herself over her husband, and no she is absolutely not thinking of devoting her life to one single person and maybe just maybe she needs to calm down and---

“I think you should ask her!”

Lucina hugs the wall. That’s Fjorm’s voice.

“Are you certain about this?” Kiran.

“I’m no… expert in love, but I do think it’s worth the effort. I believe the possibilities outweigh the consequences,” Fjorm responds. A pause.

“Yeah. Alright, I think I will. Thank you,” Kiran replies. “I am very lucky to have such a good friend in you.”

“No, the pleasure is all mine,” Fjorm replies. “You saved me. I owe you at the very least this much.”

“I appreciate it greatly. Oh! And, I wish you the best of luck, too.”

“I’m sorry?” Kiran doesn’t answer her though, and Lucina hears their footsteps echoing through the hall as they trot away. Lucina breathes again, forgets what she was doing, and steps out into the courtyard.

“Oh, Lucina!”

Lucina fumbles and nearly drops the Feh doll. Fjorm’s face is absolutely delighted, and she has **_Leiptr?_ **

“Come, come!” she grabs Lucina by the hand and takes her behind the corner without a second to rest. “Keep this between you and I, okay?” Lucina nods. “Check it out. Kiran’s gonna ask Lyn for her hand in marriage!”

“What??” Lucina yells softly. Fjorm nods. “Since when---”

“I don’t know!” Fjorm says. “But Kiran and Lyn have been spending so much time together and Kiran feels a spark now and---oh, I’m so happy for them both!”

Doesn’t that remind Lucina of someone [this is **strictly** a professional relationship; shut your mouth].

“So yeah,” Fjorm says, and she lets go of Lucina’s hands. “Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Lucina echoes. _Is Leiptr fixed?_

“Your hands are behind your back,” Fjorm says.

“Oh, yes, my hands are behind my back!” Lucina says. “I, uh, I have a gift for you. Completely professional appreciation gift. Just a token of my gratitude for your service and your sacrifice.” She pauses, then whips the Feh doll into view. “This.”

Fjorm gasps and grabs it into her arms. “Oh, by the gods!” She holds it tightly against her face. “Oh, it’s so soft! Fluffy! It’s so so fluffy!” She giggles and laughs in a way that lures Lucina into a trance and she blushes and giggles along with her.

Lon’qu gives them a weird look as he walks past heading to the mess hall.

“Where did you get this?” Fjorm asks. “Oh, I hope it didn’t cost too much.”

“It didn’t cost me a single coin!” Lucina explains. “Alphonse was going around trying to get some accessories off his hands, and I saw this Feh doll and---”

“Wait. A-accessories?”

“Yes! I saw the Feh doll and I thought it would look great on you! Very modern style, you see.”

“M-modern, huh? How do I, uh...”

“Turn it upside down!”

“Oh. Oh, wow, are these---”

Lucina nods frantically. “Clips. You can put Feh on your head now as a hat.”

Fjorm looks dumbfounded, and stays that way for a few seconds, and Lucina gets cold feet thinking that she flubbed it again like she did with her mom, but the ice princess flushes into a smile. She chuckles softly and whispers, “I love it.”

“Truthfully?” Lucina asks.

“From the bottom of my heart.” She clips the doll onto her head, and it looks absolutely magnificent. They look at each other for a second.

“AH!” they both scream in unison. “RIGHT!”

“Leiptr!” Lucina says. “Your lance! You’re carrying it!”

“Yes, I am carrying it!” Fjorm echoes. “Oh, that was the reason why I was out here in the first place.” She takes her lance off her back, and presents it to her comrade. “Here! Did you know Kiran can do weapon repairs too? Look at this.” Fjorm points to a small pond of blue ice where the crevice should have been. It’s nearly as blue Lucina’s hair. In fact, it’s the exact same shade as her hair! Lucina points this out to Fjorm.

“Ah, well, that…” She takes a breath. “I didn’t request it or anything.”

“You didn’t?”

“I did.”

“What?”

“You know what, never mind; forget I said anything; I remember I had a thing to do, I should probably go---”

“Wait!” Lucina grabs Fjorm’s hand. “Please. Did...did you actually ask that the ice be the same shade as my hair?”

“Yes,” Fjorm replies. “I wanted to… you know what, um.” She takes a breath. “I know that this is supposed to be a platonic relationship and that our responsibilities come before our lives, but lately I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I.”

“O-oh, really…”

“And I’m starting to wonder about universes where you and I are together and why can’t this universe be one of those? I MEAN, that wasn’t why I got the ice to be the same as your hair I just---oh, gods, I.” She takes a breath. “Lucina, I’ve fallen in love with you. More than any person I’ve ever known. And if you would allow me, I would like to spend the rest of my days with you.”

“What?” Lucina muttered.

“We have fought by each other’s side for a long time,” Fjorm said, ”and I cannot imagine my life without you in it anymore. If we are together, I will give however much time I have left to your safety and to your happiness, utterly, entirely, and unconditionally.”

Fjorm was right to warn that her hands are cold to the touch. Lucina feels her fingertips chill at the surface as she holds Fjorm’s hand. Fjorm’s cold is soft; it’s delicate; it’s cozy enough to wait at the door and give her a big hug when she offers it tea and biscuits. Holding Fjorm’s hand is like cradling a snowflake in her palm, and at once, Fjorm is the most wonderful woman Lucina has ever met. “I’m glad you told me,” Lucina whispers. “You are in my heart as well, Fjorm. I… I love you too.”

“Oh, Lucina,” Fjorm says, “I’m overjoyed.” She tears up. “Together. Wow. That does sound a bit strange now that I think about it.”

Lucina laughs and says, “yes, it will take some getting used to, but together I know we will make it until the end.” She gets on one knee and looks up at her now-future wife. “You are the wind at my back and the sword at my side, and no matter what the future holds, I'm going to cherish every moment.”

As they quietly promise to devote themselves to each other for the rest of their lives, **the allies share a bond stronger than steel.**

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading this fic! I just have a few more things I want to get out of the way before I let you go.
> 
> At the end of Book II, it was heavily implied that the Rite of Frost greatly shortened Fjorm's lifespan. That conflicts completely with gameplay though because Fjorm doesn't have a special expiry date, not to mention all of her voice lines and text don't have that cough. I decided to side with gameplay rather than story, which is why I played down the effects of the Rite of Frost in the S-support.
> 
> I actually played Heroes first before playing Awakening, and this story is basically one big reference to my experience playing both games. A real friend of mine who played Awakening made me hyped up for Lucina, and when I was lucky enough to summon her (unlucky enough to get +Def/-Atk though), I put her with Fjorm, Lyn, and Charlotte. Lucina and Fjorm work really well together, and after I S-supported them, they had become my One True Ship Forever And Ever. I summoner-supported Brave Lyn because, well, she's Lyn and she's cool and awesome and she's an archer on a damn horse. And still probably my strongest unit.
> 
> I played Awakening earlier this year as a pint-sized, pink-haired, closed-eyed tactician named BreadBoy. I married Anna, had Morgan whom I would lay down my life for, restarted the game at least 20 times in different times throughout the story because I had messed up, and left Lucina unmarried. She disappears, and thus the concept of this story was born. The rest, as they all say, is history.
> 
> Alright, that's it for me. Again, thank you so much, and I'll see you in the next one.


End file.
